Formalities
by Princess Pinky
Summary: On the first day of Sophomore year, Ricky and Adrian were together, but how and when did their epic destiny begin?


**A/N: **This is dedicated to my awesome friends at Fan Forum's Outsiders' thread, because they helped inspire this idea.

_**Formalities**_

He watched her from across the pool. She was swimming laps; deep, determined strokes with her hair streaming back behind her head like ribbons on a little girl's handlebars as she dove beneath the chlorine blue surface. It made him think of a mermaid.

Or at least it _did_, until she gripped the metal ladder attached to the side of the pool and rose out on her glinting hazelnut colored legs. This late in the day, just before closing, most people had already left and usually, he only found himself there at this time, plaguing the lifeguards who wanted to close early and go home. So right off the bat, he was intrigued by her presence.

As she cut around the cement walkway surrounding the pool's edge, he realized she was heading for the high dive. Deciding to pursue, he nonchalantly headed towards the same destination, but on the opposite side of the pool. However, her legs her longer and far more nimble than he'd initially given her credit for, because he was only halfway there by the time she began climbing up the ladder. Knowing she'd already be in the water by the time he reached it, he paused and admired her toned body as she ascended to the tongue of the high dive and dove in, executing a perfect swan dive. He watched with interest as the water bubbled and cleared before she resurfaced, this time surprising him at the edge of the pool. _His_ edge of the pool.

"See something you like?" she asked, her voice smooth as a polished ruby.

It caught him off guard. She was playing _his_ role and he felt out of place. And he realized it must have shown on his face, because she snickered right then, prompting him to quickly pull himself together. "Who says there's something to like?" he shot back, sounding more defensive than coy as he'd meant for.

"Ask your eyes: they're the ones that have been doing all the staring."

Once again, she'd picked up on something that no other girls before her had: his slow and discreet studying of her. Something about it urged him on, while something else put him on edge. He decided to go for a change of subject. "Haven't I seen you around school?" he opted. "The majorettes?" Truth be told, he had recognized her. The marching band and the majorettes worked quite closely together after all, but even so, their entire Freshman year had gone by and they'd never formally been introduced.

"Maybe you have…" She chose that moment to rise from the water, her fire red bikini dripping and her skin slick as anything. "What's it to you, _Little Drummer Boy_?"

Three times! Three times she'd caught him by surprise and in under five minutes no less! She knew who he was. The drummer. "You've been watching me too, then?" he countered, less slickly than her skin gleamed.

"There are only so many drummers," she yawned, casually tossing in a roll of her mahogany irises.

A grunt echoed internally and again, he tried to steer away the topic. "I haven't seen you around here before."

She seemed to be examining him from head to toe as he spoke. "I'm not a people person," she finally said, before snatching his towel right out of his hands and shimmying it around her spectacular form. "I usually come in the morning, before there's a crowd, but…I didn't get a chance today, so here I am."

Her explanation provided a good opening. He typically looked for one of those _before_ he began talking to a girl, but then again, nothing about _this_ girl was typical. "I'm not into crowds either," he agreed. "That's why I come at the end of the day. I guess I was just in the right place at the right time."

"That's a cheap line," she replied, before shoving his towel back into his arms.

"What do you consider expensive?"

She paused and licked her lips, drawing the tip of her tongue slowly along her bottom lip. "No one's ever asked me that before." The Latina stuck her finger up in the air, catching it on his lips. "And before you even think about, don't give me the old, 'Well I'm asking now.'" She drew her finger back and seemed to be considering the idea.

"Pool's closing in five minutes!" one of the lifeguards, a young woman in early twenties sporting a red company issue one piece swimsuit barked as she whizzed by Adrian and Ricky. Her stiffly drying blonde ponytail, faintly tainted green from the chlorine, rocked back and forth between her muscular shoulders as she stomped off, muttering something beneath her breath that neither of the late swimmers figured was very nice yet probably about one or both of them.

With a scoff, the drummer tossed his towel over his arm. He could tell the majorette was still mulling over the conversation they'd been having before they'd been so rudely interrupted. He pushed his hand through his drying brunette hair in a movement as suave as possible. "Looks like they're kicking us out," he pushed his rippled shoulders up and down casually. "Maybe you could continue pondering my question over lunch?"

"It's past lunch." She turned on her heel, moving with the same speed she had earlier towards the women's changing room.

"An early dinner then," he prodded, catching up with her so that they were moving step for step. As they neared the diving changing rooms, he slowed his pace. "What do you say?"

"Are you asking me out?" she countered, turning towards him unexpectedly. Her face was in his before he knew it.

"Maybe I am."

She snorted and he could feel her hot breath on his face. "You don't even know my name."

Matching her stance, he closed even more space between their faces. "Formalities," he explained. "I didn't take you for a formal kind of girl."

"I'm not _that_ easy."

"No. No, you're not."

Unexpectedly, she pressed her face so close to his he was preparing for their lips to meet when suddenly she changed direction on him and moved her face to his ear. _"Adrian."_

He blinked once as his mind registered the name and when he opened his eyes, she was already disappearing into the ladies' changing room. He leaned to the side, attempting to catch a sneak peek of her from the behind, but she was already gone. With a frustrated hiss, the drummer moved into the men's changing room and found his locker. As he slid on a white t-shirt and traded in his swim trunks for jeans, he couldn't get the face nor the name out of his head.

Two minutes and thirty-seven seconds later, he found himself impatiently waiting outside the double glass doors of the pool lobby. All but the angry green-blonde lifeguard had left and he was beginning to wonder if _Adrian_ had managed to slip out some other exit without his knowledge.

"Still here?"

He popped his head up to see the gorgeous Latina holding one of the glass doors open. She was still showing off her chest in her spicy red bikini top, but she'd switched out her bikini bottoms for a pair of low rise hip hugging black jeans and spiked heels that matched her swimsuit. "Do you keep all the boys waiting or am I just special?"

"If you stick around long enough, you'll find out." Adrian marched away forward, her hips fiercely swinging as the door slammed shut without her to weigh against it. "So where are we going?" she asked, creating a beeline for the parking lot.

He followed her to the only red car in the lot, knowing it was hers before she even got to it. The top was down as she tossed her rolled up towel into the backseat and moved to open the driver's side door, but he caught her by the hand. "We can walk from here."

"Do these look like walking shoes to you?"

"They look like shoes a woman wants to show off, not hide away in her convertible."

Adrian rotated her car key between her fingers, nodding slowly to herself. "Alright, Drummer Boy," she bit, "I'll humor you." With a twist of her wrist, she motioned towards the road. "Where are we going?"

Lazily, he tossed his own towel into her backseat and noticed the gleam in her eye, even though she didn't call him out on it. With his hands free, he placed them to either side of her bare arms and turned her in the opposite direction, indicating the park located beside the pool building. "That way." He took one step, turned swiftly effectively catching Adrian off guard, and crooned into her ear, "And it's _Ricky_."

Without acknowledging her reaction, he continued a steady pace across the blacktop, adjusting his strut accordingly to the sound of her heels. It was about a minute and a half walk, but ended up taking nearly twice as long due to Adrian's inappropriate foot ware. Ricky wasn't positive, but he briefly wondered if he might somehow be channeling Adrian's relief as they approached the small hut and he held the door open for her, leading into a very small air conditioned room.

"_This_ is _dinner_?"

"_Ricky!"_

Ricky tilted his head and flashed a smile towards an elderly Mexican man who appeared behind the miniature counter. From the corner of his eye, he could see the forming of a grin on Adrian's well glossed lips. As he opened his mouth to order, she stole his limelight – and to his surprise – began to rattle off something in Spanish. For several minutes Adrian and Geraldo went back and forth, before the latter finally rang something up. He caught the old man wink the moment Adrian turned her head. As he reached for his wallet tucked in his back pocket, Geraldo held up his hand.

"No, no," he laughed, sounding more like Santa Claus than most mall impersonators. "On me."

"_Gracias, Señor."_

"_De nada, Señorita! De nada!"_

As Geraldo disappeared into the kitchen, Adrian took a seat at one of the three tiny tables in the room, the only one near the window. Judging merely by the way she flounced into her seat, Ricky could tell she was pleased with herself. "Are you just going to stand there?"

"Cute," Ricky noted curtly. He pulled back the chair across from the Latina and slid into it. He strummed his fingers along the table. "So what brings you to the pool?" It was lame, he knew, but from the short time he'd been in Adrian's presence, he knew his routine lines wouldn't work on her.

She shrugged and moved her manicured index and middle fingers across the table as if they were walking. "Swimming's good exercise. Dancing takes someone who's in shape." She tilted her head back, now moving her fingers backwards, as if miming Michael Jackson's moon walk. "You?"

"It helps to relax the muscles; the drums take a lot out of a person, swimming recharges me."

"I bet that's not your only battery."

"What makes you say that?"

Adrian scoffed. "You think I haven't heard of you, Underwood? Around school? You have a reputation."

"I'm not the only one."

"_Touché."_

"So why haven't we met before?"

Adrian ran her tongue across her teeth. "You've too busy building your reputation, I've been too busy building mine."

"So if we have an understanding, what are we still doing here?"

"_Formalities,"_ she shot back. She seemed ready to say something else, when Geraldo reappeared, placing a large white serving plate piled with freshly fried churros with a side cup of molten chocolate and a topping of whole made whipped cream. _"Muchos gracias." _Without waiting for Ricky, she picked up the topmost churro and dipped it into the cup of liquid chocolate, twirled it slowly, and then pressed it between her lips and began to alternate between sucking and nibbling on the dessert.

Ricky shifted his eyes to the plate to pick up his own churro. He lathered it with chocolate sauce and bit into it, watching Adrian's antics from his peripheral sight. But when he saw her dip her manicured finger into the whip cream and slip her tongue out to lick her finger, he couldn't help but look up. A tightness was forming in his chest, among other places, as she spread the cream along her full lips like frosted lipstick. "We could get this to go," he offered, barely able to contain himself as she leaned across the table allowing him a succulent view of her barely contained bikini top clad chest.

"Mmm." Adrian licked the cream from her lips as she pushed her chair back and walked around the table. She bent over, leaning close to Ricky's face as she swirled her finger in the chocolate sauce, but much to his dismay, she pressed her finger to his lips, leaving a dark brown fingerprint like an old fashion seal. "I have to go," she added. "My mother needs a ride to the airport." She clashed her eyelashes together while tossing her black hair over her olive shoulder. "So tomorrow night, it'll just be lonely little old me." Leaning her face towards his ear, she whispered something, then sauntered out of the tiny restaurant.

The ache as he watched her swinging hips as she left was _unbearable_. Ricky parted hips lips to slide his tongue over her chocolate _brand_ while simultaneously reciting the address she'd whispered into his ear in his head. Taking out his cell phone, he checked the clock. Much of his life was spur and unplanned, but in twenty-four hours time, Ricky knew_ exactly_ where he'd be and for once, he _couldn't wait!_


End file.
